


Stay

by DarkmoonSigel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Marking, Pack Feels, Scent Marking, Wolf Derek, beta? what beta?, no clue how to tag this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek feels comfortable enough around Stiles to be in his wolf form, but what happens when the sheriff comes home to find his son cuddling with a predator?<br/>Fluff and feelings and wolves, oh my!<br/>Rated for language and some violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh dear, I wrote another Teen Wolf fanfic. I fully admit I have no idea what I am doing. No beta so read at your own risk, people. I don't think this needs a spoiler warning on anything.
> 
> I might make this a series depending on feedback. I might not. I make you no promises and will tell you no lies.

The entire situation could be blamed on animal instinct. Wanting to seek somewhere safe, finding someplace to hide, to rest, to sleep was pretty high on the survival list especially after a lifetime of being hunted physically and emotionally. For seeking a moment of comfort from feeling trapped on all sides by dead family, crazy hunters, and responsibilities that had been his sister’s birthright thrust on him along with high expectations he had never been expected to meet. Sometime he felt condemned by fate, completely and utterly fucked. 

Admittedly it had been weakness on his part. In his defense, Derek could claim that he had been lured to the couch to watch a movie with hot white chocolate topped with whipped cream and finely chopped walnuts, cause Stiles had somehow, somewhere along the line picked up his affinity for creamy sweet drinks. He should have known it was a trap but who in their right mind could be expected to resist that kind of bait.

It didn’t help that Stiles put himself into the cushiest corner of the couch either, leaning back at an angle against the arm of it with his legs folded underneath him in the awkward, angled manner that all teenagers seemed to master. He was offering silent invitation, whether he realized it or not, if Derek wanted to come and take it, claim him. 

It was freely offered so of course Derek started off stubborn, sitting resolutely at the other end of the couch, pretending to watch a movie that he didn’t give two flying fucks about and wouldn’t be able to recount even under certainty of death. He vaguely remembered that it had explosions and lot of talking in it. All he could really focus on was Stiles and the warm beverage in his hands, how the scents of both mingled and merged enticingly together, making an olfactory blanket that was comforting. Like everything else in his life that seemed to have the potential for being nice or making him feel good, Derek resisted. He didn’t want to repeat part mistakes, leave himself unguarded but damn him, Stiles felt safe. Derek found his resolution crumbling with every sip he took, with every breath he breathed in, making the constant tension in Derek’s back and in-between his shoulder blades become weak and sag in relief as his traitorous limbs followed suit. 

By the end of the movie, Derek found that his distant positioning had somehow changed without his notice, his body having inexplicably migrated without him realizing it toward the other end of the couch until he was sitting flush, thigh to thigh with Stiles who oddly enough didn’t seem bothered by it. He smelled extremely relaxed for a human in such close proximity to a predator. Stiles smelled like a complex mixture of sweet, sour, spicy, and salty from sweat, chemicals, and constant raging hormones. It made Derek want to lick his skin, taste him, and then replace it with his own scent, something that was woodsier, darker, and saturated in musk. 

Sheer want that was turning rapidly into crushing need that was strong enough to make Derek not trust himself around Stiles. It also made him weak enough that he couldn’t bring himself to leave when he should have. Derek knew he needed to find some balance and quickly before he did something unforgivable that both of them would regret. He wasn’t ready to give this up just yet though, this little space of blessed respite which was more than he knew he deserved.

“Are you leaving already? I thought we were going to do a marathon. If you’re worried about my dad showing up, he’s on the night shift and won’t be back until morning.”, Stiles said when Derek drew away from him, getting up off the couch.

“No. I was….”, words were hard enough as it was and as per usual they failed Derek, the man who was more comfortable as a wolf not knowing how to word his question to where it made sense. “Would you care if I got comfortable?”. Derek grimaced even as the words left his mouth. They sounds ungainly and inadequate.

“Mi casa su casa, dude.”, Stiles shrugged, taking advantage of the intermission to change out the disks. Derek hadn’t offered any opinion good or bad about the Avengers so Stiles switched gears, popping in Labyrinth cause who didn‘t love David Bowie in tights and a giant codpiece. He was willing to bet dollars to donuts that Derek had never seen it. “Take off your boots, whatever.”

“I was thinking a little bit more than my boots.”, Derek admitted, swallowing nervously enough that his throat clicked. He didn’t know how to make this not sound creepy, especially now that Stiles was giving him a funny look. “Let me just show you.”

“Show me?”, Stiles’s mouth was drying out rapidly, more so than he would care to admit, becoming the fine quality of sandpaper. “Yeah, why don’t’ you just show me. Cause I’m all cool like that. Super cool. Cool as a cucumber cool. Cool, cool, cool.”.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”, Derek allowed himself to smile a little to take some of the sting out of it. Stiles flushed but grinned lopsidedly back at him, smelling of amused embarrassment. It was a quirky combination that tingled on his nose, but Derek found himself rather liking it. It was so endearing and so very Stiles, so much so it caused Derek to quickly retreat to the bathroom, before he did something phenomenally stupid like kiss Stiles or admit things that neither one of them were ready to hear. 

While he waited for a more comfortable Derek to reappear, Stiles nervously tapped his fingers against his thigh, wondering what the werewolf had meant. Did comfortable mean he was going to get naked cause werewolves seemed to really dig the casual nudity? Was he going to have to get naked? Had they come that far into their weird pseudo non relationship that naked time was now an option? Was he ready for naked time? Was little Stiles ready for naked time in the presence of an all natural Derek whose porn quality abs were made by the gods of lust and inappropriate thought themselves? 

Stiles was beginning to work himself into a full blown panic attack when he heard an odd clicking noise coming toward him. He couldn’t place it but the question answered itself before he could get up to investigate when a wolf entered the room. He could only assume it was a wolf. It was wolf shaped sort of, if wolves were the size of ponies. It was covered in shaggy black fur from nose to tail, its fangs a startling white contrast against it. The wolf’s eyes were a revelation of clear blue though, icy azure gems that sparkled with an inhuman intelligence. Looking into those strange eyes was the tip off for Stiles and the only thing that kept him for pissing himself in fear.

“D-Derek…”, Stiles stammered, mentally regrouping as the wolf watched his reaction, its enormous head tilted delicately to the side as if in inquiry. “Is this what you meant by getting more comfortable?”.

Stiles jumped when the wolf’s tail wagged, the gesture spastic and unsure. To his credit, Stiles made Derek react in turn by spazzing out. It took a moment for the wolf to realize it was in a good way, the scent of fear disappearing completely under a wave of barely contained excitement. Stiles threw caution and every inborn survival instinct to the wind as he circled around him, getting closer and closer with every dizzying rotation, making Derek wish that the teenager would just stand still for a moment. “Oh my God, oh my fucking God, this is so cool! I didn’t know you could do this! Wolf out completely! I mean I knew you could get all fangy and grrr but not four legged. And you’ve got a tail and fur and holy crap, I can see your balls. I mean they’re covered in fur but is that weird? I’m making it weird.”, Stiles tried to say all at once, his hands floating about and making nervous air gesture around him as if he wanted to touch him but was unsure if he were allowed to. “Can you understand me?”. 

Growling, Derek rolled his eyes in exasperation at him, the expression coming across clearly even on a lupine face. “Don’t be a sour wolf. Oh my god, this makes that name even better.”, Stiles grinned, feeling really high and giddy from the earlier fight or flight adrenaline. He didn’t know what quite to do with himself yet or what he should be doing. This felt like it was a big thing going on between them. Stiles hoped he didn’t fuck it up. “Hey, can I touch you? Ok, wow that sounds really inappropriate but I‘ve never petted a wolf before. Not that you‘re my pet or a pet, or…”. Stile’s brain was starting to have a meltdown when a large head was pressed into his flailing hands, his fingers instinctively digging into deep fur. It took a moment, but eventually his brain caught up enough with current events for Stiles to realize that he was scratching Derek behind his fluffy pointed ears and that the fur there was thick and soft with an slightly oily texture to the touch. Derek’s furred head was braced against his stomach, and was wonderfully warm, the wolf’s naturally high body heat seeping through all his layers of t-shirt and plaid. 

“Is this fine? Do you want to keep watching movies like this?”, Stiles asked because he didn’t know what to say, what would keep Derek here with him. The only thing he really sure about was that he didn’t want to ruin this moment. Derek didn’t, couldn’t answer him of course, at least not with words. Instead he drew away, Stiles feeling less for it. He panicked momentarily, thinking that Derek was leaving. To his immediate relief, the wolf loped over to the couch, settling back down in its cushions with a sigh. When Stiles didn’t join immediately, the human staring at him like he was in a daze, Derek bit back his pride enough to whine at Stiles as he wagged his tail a bit. He hoped that the meaning would be clear enough without coming off as pathetic or ridiculous. The noise seemed to jolt Stiles out of his lapse in mental function though, the boy joining him finally on the couch, settling back into his corner. 

The wolf barely fit on the couch as it was so Stiles found that his lap was claimed with a wolf’s head heavy upon it as Derek settled in. It didn’t leave Stiles with a lot of options for hand placement, but Derek didn’t react when he dug his fingers back into his thick fur, stroking the shaggy black hair around his pointed ears and neck. On his part, Derek had no complaints, Stiles’s movements soothing on so many different levels as he let himself sink further into the rich wealth of Stiles’s scent. He knew his fur would become saturated with it and Derek was perfectly fine with that. Though Stiles probably had no idea what he was doing, but Derek returned the favor by lifting his head to rub his muzzle against and across the teenager’s throat and chest, marking him which pleased the wolf greatly. It was satisfactory enough to satiate the animal need within, lulling Derek into a rare sense of blissed peace. It was unfamiliar to him but welcome, like finally coming home from a too long journey, safe harbor to the life sick and the world weary. It was relief and respite in the form of a steady heartbeat and a warmth that seeped in beyond the mere boundaries of his fur. It was only a mild reprieve from the horrific hardship that was his life and not even one he deserved or had earned, but Derek took it anyway feeling like a thief in the night, one that robbed cradles and ruined innocence.

Stiles hadn’t been paying attention to the movie or so he thought, because the next time he looked down, Stiles found his lap was full of snoring werewolf, Derek in a deep sleep and dead to the world. Stiles shifted experimentally to get no reaction whatsoever from him, not even so much as a tail twitch. “You better hope I don’t have to pee anytime soon, buddy.”, Stiles sighed, the odds of him being able to free himself looking pretty slim. Turning off the movie, Stiles settled back into the couch, getting as comfortable as he could. It must of worked because the next thing he knew, Stiles was waking up to morning light and his dad standing over him with a scared look on his face. It took a moment but Stiles soon realized that he still had a wolf in his lap. A really large scary looking wolf that was awake now and staring up at his father with big eyes and even bigger teeth.

Crap.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Derek blamed it on Stiles for smelling like pack, cause it was always Stiles‘s fault somehow for making him weak. It was the only excuse he could come up with for letting his guard down like that and falling asleep in Stiles’s lap while still in his lupine form, waking up belated to find the sheriff standing over his son with a panicked look on his lined face. 

“What the hell is that and why is it in the house?!”, the sheriff asked in a far calmer tone than Derek would have expected upon finding one’s only son with a wolf the size of a freaking pony stretched out across the couch, barely fitting within the confines of the furniture with his head nestled in the teenager’s lap.

“What does it look like? It’s a dog. Are you feeling alright, Dad? Did you eat fried food again?”, Stiles countered, to his credit the boy’s tone even and without a trance of nervousness in it though Derek could hear Stile’s heart ricocheting off his ribs in his chest. He started to stroke Derek’s ears and muzzle like it was the most normal thing in the world, leaning in as he did so. “Stay.”, he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, knowing that Derek would be able to hear him. Hell, with his wolfy senses, the breathed out, barely there whisper was probably as loud as a yell to him.

“I don’t see how what I ate for dinner explains why there is a…..a…. I don’t even know what’s sleeping on you.”, the sheriff said wearily. Derek could here the older man’s hands running over leather and metal, knew that he would go his gun if he thought Derek even so much as shifted wrong. Not that regular bullets would bother or slow down the werewolf much, but things could go seriously awry if the firearm came into play. Humans were squishy things and could bleed out. 

“He followed me home.”, Stiles said with a lopsided grin. Derek had to tap down the urge to bite him for that. The teenager smelled of amusement with slight hints of smug on top of it. Derek was a little annoyed with himself that he found that scent was appealing to him. 

“Why couldn’t you have led him to the animal clinic instead of here? I’m sure some scientist or lab is looking for him.”, the sheriff groused but sounded like he was starting to relax a bit. Smelled like it too, the sharp tang of tension starting to ease out of the room. 

“C’mon dad, I’ve always wanted a dog and I know you’re worried about me spending so much time here by myself alone in the house. Alone. So alone.”, Stiles grinned, that little fucker, the sourness of his apprehension draining away as well to be replaced with a spicy touch of mischief, though Derek was not relieved or amused by it. He fought back a warning growl that was trying to work its way out of his throat. Derek managed to cover it up by curling up closer to Stiles, the noise coming out more like a waking doggy groan. To Derek chagrin, it made the sheriff tense up again though not from anything he had done this time. This one was all on Stiles and his father.

“You know you can’t have a dog. Your mom‘s…”, the sheriff trailed off, answering an old sounding argument out of reflex before tragic reality caught up with them both.

“She was….” Stiles said softly, looking down and away, avoided both the wolf‘s and his father‘s eyes. The scent of sadness perforated the room, oddly salty sweet smelling. Sorrow always reminded Derek of sea salt and sweetpea. Taking a chance and keeping his movements slow, Derek raised his head while pushing his ears back to look up at the sheriff with wide blue eyes, a high pitch crying whine breaking the silence in the room.

It got the response he was going for though, both humans distracted long enough by the pathetic sound to be broken out of their old mourning. “He looks more like a lover than a fighter.”, the sheriff chuckled, reaching down to scratch Derek behind his ears, the werewolf having to focus on wagging his tail and appearing relaxed while it sounded like Stiles was trying not to choke on his own tongue. “I’m not saying yes but I’m not saying no either. You need to make every effort to find this guy’s owner if he has one or the circus he ran away from. If no one comes to claim him, I’ll consider it but you’ll have to be responsible for him and I mean on everything. Walking, feeding, the whole nine yards. I’m not coming home after a long day to clean up crap in my yard.

Derek was going to do evil, inhumane things to Stiles when this was all over and done with. It didn’t help matters that Stiles’s belly kept tensing and shaking from held in laughter or that his scent was a riot of relief, glee, and excitement. If Stiles thought for a minute that Derek was going to stay here and play Fido, he had another thing coming and Derek’s revenge would be sure that his revenge was swift and merciless. 

“We should bring him to Deaton first and see what the doc thinks, if he recognizes him at all. It would nice to know if this big guy was up on all his shots.”, the sheriff mused. Derek couldn’t wholly stop the groan that came from him. Deaton would never let him live this down if they had to keep up this ridiculous charade much longer. He planned to become a ’lost pet’ the first chance he got. “Do you have a name for him?”

“Dere…..DARK!”, Stile recovered enough from a bout of poorly smothered laughter to start babbling. “Yup, Dark. Good ole Dark cause his fur is so…um….dark. Yeah.”. Stiles Stilinski everyone, thank you and good night. Derek would have face palmed if he had the proper appendages for it. He had to settle for shooting Stiles a disgusted look that translated rather well across species despite the muzzle. It didn’t help matters either when Stiles broke out into a cold sweat under his father’s steady observation. 

“Have you taken your Adderall today?”, the sheriff finally asked, making Stiles jump. If it wasn‘t for the almost three hundred pound werewolf laying on top of him, the reaction might have been noticeable.

“Yes…..No….Maybe. I forgot?”, Stiles spazzed, his hands jumping up and down the shaggy ruff of Derek’s neck to finally settle in the fur, twisting its length around his fingers nervously. “What does that have to do with anything?”. Derek tucked his head back into Stiles’s lap to hide his face just in case the force of his disgust made enough human like intelligence come through for the sheriff to start asking questions. How the hell did this idiot keep anything from his father?

“Well, come on, Dark. Looks like you’re staying.”, Stiles said, attempting to shove Derek off of him. The wolf looked up enough to yawn in his face, unimpressed with his efforts. “Um, please?”.

Throwing him a bone, all humor intended, Derek slinked off the couch with a unnatural fluid grace despite his impressive size, making the sheriff step back with a grunt of surprise. “Holy crap, he looks even bigger standing up. Do you have any idea what breed he is? I would say wolf if he wasn’t so damn big. Healthy looking coat on him though and nice eyes. Husky mix maybe?”, the sheriff whistle low, clearly impressed. Derek held his head high, trying not to preen. Everyone, even Laura, had always conceded that his lupine form was truly magnificent, his fur such a velvety black it shone silver in light with not a spot of white or lesser coloring to mar its richness. His most striking feature though were his clear azure eyes. He would have to be careful that they did not shine crimson around the sheriff. 

“He is a good looking dog.”, the sheriff said in admiration, petting Derek behind his ears again. The werewolf was grateful for the fur hiding his full body blush, considering that he was dying from embarrassment. Stile wasn’t helping either.

“Yup. He’s a hot dog.”, Stiles laughed, receiving sour looks from both wolf and father.

“Son…that was bad, even for you. You’re lucky that Dark can’t talk.”, the sheriff shook his head, completely missing Stiles’s quick look of terror as he remembered certain things about Derek, like how he was in wall slamming as soon as Derek got back his opposable thumbs. Derek grinned at him, showing off all his teeth as he wagged his tail. Revenge was going to be so sweet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott finds out about Derek being Dark. This story is about his reaction to it.  
> No beta. Read at own risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More wolf Derek, oblivious Sheriff, and Stiles with some confused Scott thrown in. Might write some more for this. It's kinda fun.

“Stiles? Have you seen Dark?”

Stiles froze in sheer terror which made Scott stop as well to look strangely over at him, the werewolf for his best friend undoubtedly smelling his anxiety sky rocket, a panic attack imminent. Stiles was grateful that his father was still in the kitchen, ruining whatever he was making for dinner, and wasn’t present to see the blood drain away from Stiles’s face.

“Upstairs. Why?”, Stiles lied carefully, his words coming out too tentative to be believed even by him. It wasn’t helping matters that Scott was doing his best confused puppy imitation at the moment. Stiles had failed to mention to him that Derek had decided to hang out at his house while in wolf form when the Sheriff had showed up and Alpha werewolf had inadvertently been made a pet by strange circumstance. Mostly because Stiles happened to like where all his organs were currently located and he truly doubted that Derek would see the humor of the situation or would appreciate the sharing of it with others. 

“I haven’t seen Dark all day and he’s not in your room. I’m pretty sure that I would have noticed him when I went up there earlier with the laundry.”, John mused, still too busy making a mess of what could be laughing referred to as food. On a scale of one to ‘sweet baby Jesus, I think it’s sentient’ inedible, Scott’s crinkled nose and disgusted expression told Stiles that some Prime Directive might be needed to negotiate with dinner. 

“Dark?”, Scott mouthed at him.

“Tell you later.”, Stiles whispered back.

“So, where is your dog, son? The one you were supposed to be responsible for.”, John asked, walking out of the kitchen and looking deceptively casual about it as he dried his hands off with a dishtowel. Used to the cop routine, Stiles prayed fervently to every deity that he had ever read about that Scott would keep his damnable puppy dog looks of confusion under control long enough for him to come up with some plausible lie about Derek’s absence. 

“Well…..Dark is….”, Stile stumbled, his brain crapping out on him when he needed it most, fuck you very much Adderall. He knew there was a reason he kept forgetting to take that shit.

“…..is….oh my god, is right there, dad. Are you going blind in your old age?”, Stiles managed out weakly as Derek aka Dark aka everyone’s favorite alpha in lupine form trotted down the stairs as easy as he pleased. Stiles was vaguely aware of Scott making some sort of odd choking sounds behind him, enough so that Stiles felt the need to elbow him in the gut. Dismounting the stairs with a click of paws and wave of tail, Derek continued to look very unimpressed with the entire proceeding as he plopped his existence down in front of the Sheriff.

“Huh. I could have sworn…”, John murmured, staring down the werewolf who made a show of scratching his pointed ear with a hind leg. Scott actually did choke when John reached to pet Derek’s head, the Sheriff giving the teenager a strange look when Scott began to gasp for air.

“What’s the matter, Scott? Don’t like dogs or are you having an asthma attack?”, John asked concerned, though he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Scott with his inhaler. It was another odd thing he took note of on the long list of ‘occurrences in his life that didn’t fit or sit right with him’. Sadly enough, the majority of these quirks seemed to center around his own son. John relaxed when Scott grinned, waving his concern off. “I know Dark’s a big dog but he’s really a ball of fluff. I’ve never seen a gentler dog.”.

With that, Scott’s face began to darken to a shade of red that told Stiles of the effort his friend was putting in not to laugh, pass out, or spontaneously combust. “You look thirsty Scott. Why don’t you go get a drink, man?”, Stiles gritted out, kicking Scott hard in the shins while wishing it was a swift kick to the ass.

“Is he alright?”, John asked with a worried look, wondering if he should call Melissa or not. “Is he coming down with something?”.

“He’s just been training hard.”, Stiles said quickly, glaring down at Derek when the werewolf snorted. 

“Tell him to take it down a notch. I have to start getting ready for work. I made dinner.”, John said, making Stiles wince as he gave Derek a final pat on the head.

“So money for pizza…..”, Stile started, knowing what that meant.

“…..Is on the counter.”, John finished with a sigh. He really did try but he had never gained a knack for cooking. 

“Don’t forget to walk Dark and pick up some food for him while you are out. I’ve noticed that you still haven’t gotten him a bowl. I don’t want dog slobber on my plates or him drinking out of the toilet.”, John said as Stiles carefully maintained a neutral expression. Risking a glance over, Stiles found that Derek was giving him a hard look, made even more severe by his icy blue eyes and long snout full of sharp pointy teeth. 

“You got it! Walk the dog! Pick up food! No heads in toilets!”, Stiles agreed quickly while trying to ignore traitorous noises coming from the kitchen, damn Scott and his keen werewolf hearing. To Stiles’s human ears, it sounded very much like Scott was trying to muffle himself with a dishtowel and failing miserably at it. Stiles resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, willing back a tension headache. 

“Scott, buddy. How’s that water? Slow down and don’t choke on it.”, Stiles yelled to him as he mentally added, “You bastard.”. 

“Stay safe, son, and don’t go anywhere outside without Dark. There’s been a lot of weird things out there lately.”, were John’s parting words of wisdom, the sheriff unaware of the irony they held as Stiles and Derek watched him go.

“You can totally bite Scott. Just try to keep the bloodshed down to a minimal.”, Stiles told the wolf at his side, who appeared to be seriously considering it.

“Hey! I heard that!”, Scott yelled from the kitchen.

“You were supposed to, numb nuts. Dude, what the hell was that?!”, Stiles roared back, stomping into the kitchen to find a werewolf raiding his fridge, a block of cheese already hanging out of Scott’s mouth, held neatly in place with his fangs. “My cheddar! Not cool!”.

“I should be asking you the same thing! Why is Derek here? And why is your dad calling him Dark?!”, Scott mumbled around his stolen cheese, staring at Derek who glared at him back with ruby eyes, growling so low it was making all the glass in the kitchen shake. 

“It’s a long story…”, Stiles mumbled, not knowing exactly where to begin or how much Derek would let him tell. Having left off his growling, the alpha was now nosing him in the side, impatiently huffing rumbling noises at him.

“What’s a long story?”, making both of the boys jumped as the Sheriff reentered. Scott grimaced when he noticed Derek’s look of judgment directed at him. The wolf managed to convey disgust, boredom, and indifference all at the same time in verdict about Scott’s lack of awareness about his surroundings. 

“N-nothing much. Just catching up Scott here on Dark.”, Stiles fumbled his words, his hand coming to rest on Derek’s head to pet it awkwardly. He got a look for his efforts in fail. “What are you doing back here, Dad? Here with the back, in the kitchen… with us.”.

“Have you taken your Adderall today?”, John squinted at his son, who was looking everywhere except at him. The Sheriff let it go for now, turning his attention to Scott who was unabashedly eating all the cheese, the mooch. “Anyway, it’s the damnedest thing. I’ve asked around all over town. You would think someone would remember or recognize a dog this big and distinctive but not a damn peep or blip on the radar though. Deaton doesn’t even know him.”.

“Deaton!?”, Stiles yelped, falling over in place to catch himself on Derek who grumbled at him but stayed solid as a rock as the teenager flailed to keep himself upright. 

“You didn’t think I would find out that you’d forgotten but someone’s got an appointment with the Doc this Tues for a check up and shots. I came back to tell you that before I forgot. I made the appointment so you can take Dark after school.”, John said in a sing song voice as he vigorously rubbed Derek’s ears. Stiles closed his eyes, praying that Derek wouldn‘t eat his dad or nom off his hands. “Don’t eat all our food, Scott.”. 

“Awesome. Thanks, Dad.”, Stiles said weakly. He could feel Derek fuming beside him, the wolf tensely pressing into the line of his side. Stiles could foresee quite a bit of wall slamming by a grumpy werewolf in his near future.

“Oh, I’ll remind him. I work there so if Stiles can’t make it, I can always take Dark in.”, Scott looked and sounded dangerously smug and amused with himself. As if in answer, Derek very gracefully got up and left the room with his head held high. Stiles took that as a very bad sign, a very bad sign indeed.

“Aw crap, now look what you’ve done.”, Stiles sighed, gesturing to the departing werewolf who was more than likely full of the grump, more so than usual. 

“I’m sure Dark with get over it, son. Just don’t forget to get some tags made up for him while you’re there.”, John chuckled, not really getting why Scott started to laugh or why Stiles looked a cross between terrified and incredibly embarrassed. He felt like he was missing something…again…but damn if he could figure out what. “Scott, are you high?”.

“No! No, sorry! Just tired! Extra lacrosse training!”, Scott choked out as he tried to sober up from his case of the giggles.

“You boys be safe and try not to break anything.”, John shook his head, taking his leave again. Stiles and Scott followed the sheriff out to make sure he left this time. 

Stiles was about to ask Scott if his dad’s car was truly well and gone when he noticed his friend looking around, his nostrils flaring as he scented the air. “What?”, Stiles asked, not seeing what Scott was freaking out about.

“Dude!? Where’s my backpack and gear?!”, Scott freaked, darting this way and that in search for it when the missing backpack didn’t present itself to him. After a quick search. their answer came in the form of Derek lounging on the couch, still in lupine form, his giant paws covered in dirt. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together to get buried.

“All my homework is in there! Where is it!?”, Scott yelled at the wolf who favored him with an uninterested look. Derek got up long enough to circle around on the couch before plopping back down with a heavy sigh of what sounded like deep seated disgust. 

“Why are you interrogating the dog?”, the Sheriff asked, making Stiles’s and Scott’s feet leave the ground for the second time that day.

“What are you doing back?!”, Stiles yelped, trying to will his heart back into his chest.

“I happen to live here and left a file behind by accident. Why is Scott yelling at Dark like he’s people?”, John arched a brow at his son and childhood friend.

“Er, Dark may have…um…buried Scott’s homework.”, Stiles really, really wished that sounded better. 

“So you’re asking him instead of, I don’t know wild guess here, checking the backyard?”, John sighed, wondering not for the first time about the level of Scott’s intelligence and how it was rubbing off on his son. 

“Now there’s an idea.”, Stiles laughed nervously, though the question was more like which backyard or park or part of the preserve Derek had run off to. “Why didn’t we think of that? Right, Scott?”. Stiles cringed when Scott faked laughed, the idiot werewolf still glaring at Derek who pointedly ignored them all. 

“I’m running late. Try to stay out of trouble.”, John sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Is he gone? Like really gone this time?”, Stiles asked quietly, breaking the tense stillness of the room.

“Yes.”, Scott muttered before turning on Derek. “Not cool.”, he hissed at the wolf, who rolled over onto his back with full intention of napping comfortably.

“Why don’t you just track it down?”, Stiles snapped, already totally done with this entire day. All he wanted to do was pass out in his bed for a little while and forget that his life was incredibly full of the weird. 

“You don’t think I’ve thought of that?! Derek been here a lot. His scent is everywhere. I don’t even know where to begin.”, Scott growled. “Why are you here?”, he snarled at the wolf who blatantly ignored him, feigning sleep and failing that, feigning indifference. 

“Why is he here?!”, Scott directed his question this time at Stiles who really didn’t want to answer that particular question. He noticed that Derek’s pointed ears were swiveled back toward him as if waiting for his answer as well. 

On his part, Derek really had none of his own or at least anything that he wanted to admit aloud to himself. He didn’t know why he kept coming back here, to Stiles’s house. It just felt safe to him and when was the last time he had experienced that sort of sensation? Back when he was fifteen and his pack, his family was still alive and the house, home to numerous generations of Hales wasn‘t a burned out shell of a building? Now there was something he didn’t want to dwell on any time soon as misery and guilt once again threatened to drown him. Turning back over to hide his belly, the wolf buried his nose further into the cushions, letting the scent of Stilinskis overwhelm his senses. Derek tried to lose himself in the odors of a home that was cracked and mended but not broken.

“What the hell do you want me to say?”, Stiles gestured helplessly toward the werewolf cuddling with his couch, “It’s Derek. It’s not like the guy’s a sparkling conversationalist or into the whole ’sharing is caring’ thing.”.

Derek wanted to whimper, his body sagging into the couch like he yearned to disappear into its depths. Perhaps escape, as temporary and precarious as it was, was not possible for him after all. He was technically interloping on Stiles’s territory. The human had every right to turn Derek away if he really didn‘t want him here and he would have to abide. Werewolves didn’t need to be invited in like some other supernatural creatures, but they did have some definite rules about territories and the rites of passages within them. Derek prepared himself for the worst, waiting for Stiles to revoke his slight reprieve, this sanctuary. That was until he heard Stiles speak up again.

“He can stay here if he wants to though. Dad’s cool with it. Sort of, as long as Derek stays furry and none with the nakedness.”, Stiles said, gaining conviction the more he talked and thought about it, because the more his quick mind worked out his words and put them into context with Derek, the more he realized something. What did Derek have to go back to? It wasn’t like he had a family to welcome him home and Stiles really doubted that any of the betas were giving Derek the warm and fuzzies he needed. The Alpha had a charred skeleton for a house deep in the woods and a rusted out box of metal underground to return home to. When he really thought about it, Stiles couldn’t blame Derek for showing up. 

“But it’s Derek.”, Scott sounded petulant even to Stiles who was used to it by now. 

“I’m right here you know. I can understand you, idiots. Me speakie the English.”, Derek said, his change so sudden and smooth in its transition it made both teenagers startle from it. 

“You’re naked! Have you been running around naked this entire time?! Where are your clothes?!”, Scott spazzed, making Stiles wince and Derek reassess Scott’s mental capacity. 

“How are you still alive?”, Derek asked in almost a friendly tone, genuinely curious.

“C’mon. Put on some pants. Your junk is touching Stile’s couch.”, Scott pointed out, turning to Stiles for some sort of back up. “Your couch! His junk!”.

“So has mine. It’s not like we eat off the furniture.”, Stiles shrugged as Scott gaped back at him. “What? Pants can be hard to deal with first thing in the morning.”

I gonna make some real dinner. You staying?”, Stiles asked Derek, giving up on Scott whose brain seemed to have puttered out while envisioning Stiles’s random nakedness on the couch and feeling bad weird for it.

“Depends.”, Derek glared at Scott who kept staring at his penis like he had never seen one before. Didn’t he shower with team of smelly teenagers on a daily basis?

“Meatloaf?”, Stiles said, mentally going over what he had in the fridge. Macaroni and cheese was out due to Scott’s selfish cheese mooching.

“Made with real meat?”, Derek countered. He had witnessed some of the vegan crap Stiles had tricked or forced his father to eat.

“Well, it’s not made from loaf.”, Stile shot back.

“You’ve tried to sneak in that tofu shit before.”, Derek challenged, his eyebrows coming into play this time to express his discontent about the entire matter of fake meat.

“Fair enough. Yes, with all meaty, heart clogging goodness. Happy now?”, Stiles sighed in feigned defeat, waving off the alpha’s look.

“Oh my God! Is this really happening!?”, Scott yelled, the werewolf looking very confused at the moment.

“Don’t be such a sour wolf. Derek’s got that covered already and you don’t have to have any. No one is forcing meatloaf on you.”, Stiles shot over his shoulder, leaving the two werewolves to figure it out while he made dinner.

“Meatloaf’s fine! I’m talking about how Derek is sitting around naked like it’s normal while you’re making him dinner and my homework is still gone!”, Scott complained, not sure if he should continue this conversation with Stiles in the kitchen or keep an eye on Derek who didn’t seem to be doing a hell of a lot of anything at the moment.

“You’d be able to find your homework if you bothered to listen to me or trained with the betas. It’s not my fault that you suck at being a werewolf.”, Derek sighed as he reached for the remote. That earned him a strange look from Scott, making the alpha roll his eyes at him. Seriously, they acted like he lived in the Dark Ages or something, seeming constantly amazed by his use and knowledge of modern day technology. 

“He’ll get dressed. I have a ‘no nudity in the kitchen’ rule. We’re not savages for fuck’s sake.”, Stile called from the kitchen. “And I’m making dinner for everyone, so fight nice.”.

“But my homework.”, Scott complained to no one as Derek got up to locate his hidden cache of clothing. 

“So go look for it. It can’t be that far.”, Stiles paused long enough to shoo Scott out of the door. “Go. I’ll keep a plate hot for you.”.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Actually, it turned out to be quite far, taking into consideration supernatural speed coupled with human creativity as well as the little know fact that wolves can, in fact, climb trees. Especially sneaky werewolves with a vendetta armed with a stolen backpack full of chemistry homework. 

Not surprisingly, the excuse of ‘Stile’s dog hid my homework’ didn’t go over well with Mr. Harris for either of them. 

“You had to say something, didn’t you? You know Harris hates me. It wasn’t my fault that Derek was a tool and threw your bag up a tree. I was making meatloaf, remember? Meatloaf, I might add, that you ate and tried fighting Derek over the last piece.”, Stiles stared down the clock like that was going to make detention go by any faster. “I was just an innocent bystander in all this.”.

“Owner responsibility?”, Scott shrugged, the unsympathetic bastard. “And he didn’t just throw it up a tree. Actually I don’t know how he got it up there that high.”. The branches had been too small and slight to support even his lesser weight so Scott had to resort to dinging the backpack loose from a lower branch by chucking pinecones at it. It had left his backpack and hands sticky and strongly smelling of pine sap. To add insult to injury, Scott was pretty sure Derek had rubbed his balls on it if the heavy stench of Alpha musk was anything to go by.

“I’m going to tell him to just eat it next time.”, Stiles grumbled into his hoodie’s sleeve. Detention was pure torture for his poor distracted mind, his brain having already processed and catalogued everything in the room several times over. Now it was just bored and a bored Stiles was a dangerous thing indeed.

“Isn’t, you know, kinda weird though?”, Scott prodded Stiles in the side, his own hesitancy making the young werewolf nervous. 

“No.”, Stiles answered simply, going back to staring death wishes at the clock.

“No?”, Scott didn’t like or expect short answers from Stiles. They confused him more than the long winded ones Stiles was famous for. 

“No. Would you like me to say it in Spanish? No.”, Stiles sighed, getting frustrated on so many different levels. Scott’s unwillingness to leave the matter alone, Harris glaring venomously at him like Stiles was the bane of the chemistry teacher’s existence, and his own crushing boredom were really starting to wear on his patience, which he really didn’t have a lot of at the best of times. Stubbornness he had in spades but patience? Not so much.

Stiles cut his mental ramblings short when he realized that Scott was talking to him again. “….it’s Derek and he’s….”, Scott was floundering for appropriate words again. “Dude! It’s Derek. That’s kinda messed up.”.

“Not really. He was born a werewolf so who’s to say he hasn’t spent more time as a wolf than a guy.”, Stiles mused. Derek did seem more comfortable in his animal form and if he was right, it was explain a hell of a lot why Derek was so bad with people and words. Like a dog with a bone, Stiles intending the pun, Scott was fixated on one thing and one thing only, failing to see the bigger picture.

“You have a naked guy pretending to be your dog.”, Scott said flatly in a tone that state that his argument was proven and thus done.

“Not really. He’s not there most of the time.”, Stiles countered easily. Scott should really know better by now than to use that kind of tone of finality with him. “It’s mostly for when Dad’s home.”

“So Derek’s not there right now? He’s not at your house?”, Scott asked confused. He had some sort weird vision of Derek waiting by the door for Stiles that made his brain hurt.

“I have no idea and I don’t care if he is or not. Why is this freaking you out?”, Stiles sighed. The clock hated him. An inanimate object had gained just enough self awareness to actually despise him and seek vengeance upon him by stopping time itself.

“I don’t know. The Alpha who likes to bite misfits and turn them into werewolves is pretending to be my best friend’s pet dog. Nothing to worry about at all.”, Scott managed to pout and grump all at the same time. Stiles thought it was actually an impressive skill.

“And you’re a werewolf going to high school and in a dangerously codependent relationship with a huntress in training whose family wants to end you in more gruesome and painful ways than you or I can possibly imagine.”, Stiles countered without even trying because their life. “Remind me what normal looks like.”.

“You really thinks it’s dangerously codependent?”, Scott asked.

“If that’s all you got from that, then your answer Scott is ‘yes’.”, Stiles rolled his eyes, because seriously, their life. “Her Dad wants to use your skin as a rug for his fireplace. What about that sounds healthy to you?”.

“Whatever.”, Scott dismissed, taking the easy way out. “Fine but we’re not doing homework over at your house anymore.”.

“Fair enough. I’m not doing it with or over at Allison’s either.”, Stiles laid down his own ground rules. He so didn’t need to watch Scott and Allison try to suck each other’s face off anymore than he had to already. 

“At least she doesn’t hide my homework.”, Scott grinned, his expression all soft and dopey like always got whenever he spoke or thought about Allison. 

“She doesn’t have to. It still doesn’t get done.”, Stiles snorted.

“Yeah.”, Scott said, sounding like he was in a daze, his brown eye wide and unfocused. Stiles made a face at the ceiling, wondering why he even bothered being surprised by Scott’s total disconnect from reality around him whenever Allison was mentioned.

“You’re thinking about her right now, aren’t you?”, Stiles waited for the exact right moment to strike.

“…..Yeah.”, Scott cooed dreamily. He jumped high enough that he almost fell out of his seat when Stiles slapped the back of his head. 

“Puny human- one. Werewolf- a big fat zero. Take that super senses.”, Stiles grinned in triumph at the success of his sneak attack. “Like I was saying, dangerously codependent relationship so don’t worry about Derek. You, my friend, have got to get your priorities straight.”.

“It’s still weird.”, Scott grumbled, rubbing the back of his head, not that it actually hurt anything more than his pride. 

“Heard, dully noted, and ignored. Great talk there though, buddy.”, Stiles went back to silently cursing the existence of the clock whose hands he swore had not moved at all. The damn thing probably needed new batteries or an exorcism. Probably both with his luck.

Psssh. His life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. :)  
> Comments and kudos are cookies for the brain thing in my head.


	3. Being a noble stead is highly overrated.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a lazy Sunday afternoon type of story. Some light family interaction with John, Stiles, and Derek/Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got nothing.   
> Anemia sucks. I'm going back to bed.

“Sitles, are you riding Dark?”.

The wolf rider in question barely bothered to lift his head up to acknowledge his parent. “No, riding signifies some sort of control. This is more like being hauled around.”, Stile mumbled into thick dark fur, his body a limp noodle propped up over the werewolf’s back as Derek descended the stairs with a strangely delicate grace that belied his immense size. He probably looked ridiculous but zero fucks were given on his part. Stiles was exhausted, pulled a hammie, and didn’t have the stamina or supernatural healing to recover from an all nighter of fighting the monster of the week, some sort of bizarre were muskrat because yeah, life was like ‘fuck you, that‘s why.’.

“You look like one of those baby monkeys. Get off the damn dog.”, John sighed at his offspring as the wolf and boy passed by him on route to the living room.

“You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first and he’s perfectly capable of making his own life choices. Noble stead just happens to be one of them.”, Stiles said a little too smugly for anyone’s good, especially his own.

Derek expressed his opinion about being termed as a beast of burden by dumping Stiles onto the living room floor with an easy shrug of shoulders and mild tilt in stance. He didn’t actually mind carrying Stiles around, the werewolf barely registering the teenager’s weight, but he didn’t want to encourage Stiles either. He had to draw the line somewhere. ’Noble stead’ was apparently it. That and he might actually start liking the idea of Stiles clinging to him.

“Ow.”, Stiles groaned, shooting a glare at the werewolf who looked unrepentantly down at him, “Why?”.

“Serves you right.”, John said, coming over to poke a socked toe into Stiles’s side, making the teenager curl up like an oversized pill bug.

“Your concern for my well being is touching.”, Stiles deadpanned, making efforts to defend himself from further pokes by flailing his arms about. It was ineffective at best and John thought it made Stiles look like he was having a stroke.

“Just supporting Dark’s life choice.”, John snorted, reaching over to scratch behind Derek’s ears. The werewolf wondered if it was a little bit sad that he was getting used to such slightly demeaning yet affectionate treatment. 

“See if I do any more late night research for you.”, Stiles muttered into the carpet, knowing that Derek would be able to hear him clearly. Derek responded by pressing a very cold and very wet nose to Stiles’s side where his shirt had ridden up high enough to expose vulnerable skin. The teenager yelped at the moist contact, rolling away so that he ended up on his back. Derek grinned openly enough to let his tongue loll out when Stiles flipped him the bird.

“Get off the floor before you hurt yourself.”, John shook his head, taking a seat on the couch with every intention of watching the game. Stiles’s spastic positioning in front of the tv was a little distracting though. 

“How am I going to hurt myself? As long as you don’t step on me, it’s the very definition of safe.”, Stiles asked, refusing to move. The floor was his friend even if werewolves with cold ass noses and fathers insisting he move his aching bones were not. “The only danger here for me is dieing of starvation.”, he said, looking pointedly over at John. 

When it became obvious that his father wasn’t about to get off the couch anytime soon or was anyway moved by Stiles’s plight in life, the teenager resigned himself to wasting away on the floor with only the dust bunnies for mourners to his passing. Stiles’s will to live was forced back into commission though then a box was dropped on his head. The ineffective bludgeoning weapon turned out to be a box of strawberry pop tarts, delivered from kitchen to Stiles’s head via werewolf express.

“All is forgiven.”, Stiles told Derek solemnly. Best werewolf ever, even if he was rolling his eyes at him.

“Did you seriously teach the dog to retrieve pop tarts for you?”, John asked incredulously, though he had to admit to himself that he was a little impressed. John found himself wondering if he could get the dog to do the same thing for him.

“You told me it was my responsibly to train him.”, Stiles said, ignoring the steely look Derek was giving him.

“Son, the point of that was to enrich yourself, and even perhaps build some character, not make you a lazy sack of crap.”, John pointed out, making an effort at parenting.

“Ouch. The brain is a muscle too.”, Stiles feigned wounding.

“No. No, it’s not. Are you passing that class?”, John asked wearily, still remembering his rather awkward parent meeting with ‘Cupcake’.

“With flying colors.”, Stiles answered weakly. Derek groaned as he laid down beside the prone teenager, putting his paws over his snout.

“It’s sad when your dog doesn’t even believe you.”, John said as he got up in search of some snack food that wasn’t vegetables, giving Stiles a chance to glare openly at the wolf by his side.

“Oh shut up. It’s either homework or finding out how to kill your freak of the week.”, Stiles grumped at Derek who remained unapologetic. Stiles took his revenge by mustering up enough energy to treat the werewolf like a body pillow, using Derek’s bulk to partially prop himself up as he liberated a foil packet from its box, tearing it open with his teeth. To Stiles’s surprise, Derek seemed to encourage this closeness or simply didn’t care, the werewolf curling his body around the teenager while anchoring him there by placing his heavy head in Stiles’s lap and draping his bushy tail over Stiles’s legs.

“Are you talking to yourself?”, John asked, returning with the supposedly well hidden bag of potato chips in hand.

“Just talking to Dark.”, Stiles admitted, choosing to turn a blind eye this time as he munched mechanically on his own sugary breakfast. He was too tired and his father seemed really committed about keeping his junk food.

“That’s comforting.”, John said around a mouthful of Lays, savoring salty, fat laden victory.

“Poor puppy. You’ll hurt his feelings.”, Stiles said, placing his hands over Derek’s ears. The werewolf grumbled at the crumbs getting into his fur but stayed still, even leaning into the touch when Stiles started to stroke the velvet around his pointed ears. Derek barely stopped himself in time from whining when Stiles stopped, the teenager more interesting in feeding his face.

“Quit eating on the floor.”, John sighed as Stiles opened another packet.

“I’m the only one who vacuums. He who cleans may eat where so ever he chooses.”, Stiles pointed out, gesturing expansively with his pop tart in hand while distributing sticky crumbs far and wide.

“And he who pays the bills say to get off the floor and at least eat over the sink. That and you’re blocking the game.”, John said, adding to the mess by brushing flavoring off of his fingertips. 

“I blame the fall of society on you.”, Stiles rolled his eyes. “Poptart?”, he asked, offering Derek the rest of the packet. The werewolf did the lupine version of a shrug that almost sent Stiles scrawling forward before accepting the rectangle of fruity carbs, barely chewing it before gulping it down.

“Quit feeding the dog pop tarts. That’s people food.”, John admonished.

“You’re going to give Dark a complex, demeaning him like that. It’s not healthy.”, Stiles shook his head, draping himself over Derek’s back. “I don’t suppose you’ll take me back to my room.”, he asked the werewolf hopefully. Derek grumbled back, not moving a muscle in obstinate answer. 

“I’ll bring the pop tarts.”, Stiles offered, showing the noble stead that he had the box in hand. Stiles yelped as Derek got up abruptly, letting the teenager fall back onto the floor. Stile continued making noises as the werewolf bit down on his t-shirt and proceeded to drag Stiles out of the living room and up the stairs.

“Ow. Ow. OW! Bad dog! Heel! Please? That was my pancreas! I need that! Ow! Crap, my funny bone! Ow! No, not the pop tarts!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff piece about a Saturday morning with the Stilinskis and Wolf Derek
> 
> NO BETA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm back. I've been on vacation and have been sick. Not a fun combination, but I'm back now. Thank you for your patience. All stories new and old will resume soon.

“Rise and shine!”

“Noooooooooooo!”, Stiles groaned, because his life was so unfair, his dad sounded way too perky for anyone‘s good, and he was so damn comfortable at the moment. And not even just merely comfortable, more like ‘oh my god, I don’t care that the house is on fire. Leave me the fuck alone. I’m going to let it all burn.’ kind of comfortable. Having a warm body pillow of furry wolf goodness wasn’t helping matters in waking, especially if that pillow had no intention of getting up any time soon either.

For whatever reason, Derek had taken to sleeping in his bed lately even while Stiles was in it which wasn’t as sexy as it sounded, unless one had a kink for listening to the bed rumbling sounds of powerful wolf snores and being covered in itchy long wiry hair that got in places Stiles didn‘t know he had. 

Despite those minor discomforts, it was surprisingly not awkward so Stiles took what he could get, which was usually less than half of the mattress. In human form, Derek was a source of sexual frustration, chiseled muscle, and threatening frowny face of unshaven grumpiness. Derek in lupine form was all snuggly and covered in soft fur that smelled like cold night air, damp earth, and spiced wood. It was like having a giant teddy bear that shamelessly hogged the bed and growled at you if you snored (the fucking hypocrite cause seriously, Derek’s snores could set the base line for bad techno music) or wiggled around too much. 

Because of the space issue and Derek’s silent refusal to sleep elsewhere, Stiles more often than not found himself sleeping on top of or wrapped around the Alpha like a baby monkey koala thingy, all angles of his body buried in fluffy mounds softness and warmth. 

As it was with his father still looming over him, Stiles roused himself enough awake to realize two very important things. One, it was Saturday and two, it was well before noon. “Why?”, Stiles flopped back down to groan into dark fur, the complaint coming out slightly muffled. Derek echoed this sentiment with a deep rumbling sound that was more pained whining in agreement than actual growl. 

It had been a shock to Stiles to find out that Derek seemed to live for sleeping in. He had always kinda thought that the werewolf would be up at dawn, communing with nature and becoming one with the land. Stiles had voiced this absurd notion once in a rant until Derek pointed out that werewolves were nocturnal so why the hell would he be up at dawn like a crazy person when noon was a perfectly acceptable time to check if the sun rose or not.

“We’re going to the preserve today for some of that heart healthy exercise you‘re always nagging me about. I need my sponsor for motivation so shake a leg and grab your gear.”, John persisted with a wide grin, the expression of one who enjoyed torturing their offspring with unreasonable demands and their own words used against them. 

“This is child abuse. I’ll report you to the authorities.”, Stiles grumbled who somehow managed to sit up enough to start stretching, his back and joints popping loudly enough to make John wince at the wet sounding chorus of crunching cartilage. 

“I’ll be sure to file and shred that report for you. Some fresh air won’t kill you.”, John said, not letting up an inch. 

“Caffeine withdrawal might.”, Stiles yawned before slumping back over the wolf, like all strength had been sapped from his extremities due to the absence of a hot beverage. He glared down at Derek who smugly took up more of the bed, his bulk practically shoving Stiles off of it and onto the floor. In retaliation, Stiles attempted to kick the wolf out the bed but only succeeded at flailing about in self defense to avoid Derek rolling over on top of him. John winced for his son as Stiles belly flopped onto hardwood face first to eat floor.

“I would have but someone got rid of all the coffee in the house because it wasn’t heart healthy.”, John grinned, relishing his victory as one of Stiles’s health kicks finally bit him in the ass, the teenager groaning a wounded sound into the floorboards.

“Touché. Well played, father. Well played.”, Stiles sighed, picking himself up off of the floor. “I’m willing to make an exception in this matter.”. He glared at the bed hog in wolf’s clothing as Derek stretching out fully, letting out a content and completely smug sigh as he luxuriated over his victory. 

“Don’t forget to put the collar on Dark.”, John said, making both boy and wolf wake up fully to stare at him wide eyed. “I’ll go start breakfast.”.

“Why?”, Stiles asked, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer. If Derek’s intent expression was anything to go by, he wasn’t either. 

“Because it’s the most important meal of the day.”, John whipped. Stiles didn’t bat at an eye at the joke but it did make Derek wince, making his pointed ears flick and go back. Apparently, the Stilinski’s brand and level of wit was hereditary. 

“Obviously we’re taking him with us. C’mon son, get with the program.”, John said in parting before descending the stairs, leaving a pair of miffed beings in his wake.

“Oh, crap.”, Stiles sighed because Derek was all with the glares and low growling now. Stiles didn’t think it was possible for canines to have eyebrows but Derek was proving him wrong. There was some definite eyebrow dance of doom being emoted through all the fur right now.

Whether as a joke or not, cause who could really tell with Deaton, the vet had made up a collar of braided bright blue leather complete with a set of tags for Derek. Stiles had thrown it in a drawer after showing it to his dad and completely forgotten about it until now. He grimaced as he found it easily enough, wondering if he should just lie and tell his dad that he had lost it. It would not be the first time Stiles had misplaced something and in the mess of lies and half truths that was his life and relationship with his father now, this one was minor, a mere drop in an ocean of deceit. 

It was Stiles’s sudden stillness that got Derek’s full attention. A quiet Stiles was a very disconcerting thing to be in the presence of. That and the scent of misery that was starting to waft off of the teenager’s skin was distressing enough to make Derek want to shift and whine. He watched as Stiles began to worry his bottom lip between his teeth, his agile mind probably already thinking up some sort of excuse or flat out lie to feed to his father about why their ‘dog’ couldn’t wear the collar. In the grand scheme of disastrous occurrences that was their abnormal lives, this was a truly minor thing. For some strange reason though, it bothered Derek as he watched Stiles’s long, deceptively graceful fingers play with the braided leather in hand. 

Derek couldn’t explain what he was feeling or admit it to himself even if he did. All he knew was that he didn’t like that scent of distress coming off of Stiles first thing in the morning or that slightly sad look on his face, his guilt already wounding him for the new deceits sitting unborn on his tongue.

As much as he hated to admit it and would never do so outside his own head, Derek thought Deaton had done an excellent job selecting the collar. It looked like it would fit perfectly, riding comfortably around his neck without feeling like it was going to choke him. The color was a little off-putting though, the blue of the leather almost the same light shade of his wolf eyes, and would stick out blatantly against his dark fur which Derek was sure was Deaton‘s intention all along. 

Growling at himself for delaying, Derek loped off of the bed with a new resolve. He could do this, give this small reprieve to Stiles. It would cost him nothing but some pride on his part. Since the demise of his family and pack though, when had that been of any real merit or worth? He noticed that Stiles was so deep in thought he didn’t even take note of the werewolf’s approach, and damn it, Derek felt guilty even about that. 

Stiles realized he must have been staring down at the collar in hand for while, the teenager startling back to current reality when Derek pressed his overly large head into his limp hands, bumping the collar. Swallowing hard and in complete disbelief of his luck, Stiles took that as consent or that least he hoped it was, slipping the collar carefully over the wolf’s head, being mindful of his ears.

“It looks good.”, Stiles grinned, smoothing the fur around the collar down a bit. Derek shot him a ‘don’t press your luck’ look of briefly bared fangs before stalking off, the smell of bacon wafting up into the room.

“That better not be the real stuff.”, Stiles yelled down to his father as he scrambled for some clothing. He fully planned on feeding Derek all the bacon if it was, especially when he knew there was heart healthy turkey substitute in the fridge. Stiles couldn’t help but smile as he heard Derek’s tags jiggle down the stairs or the laugh that came when he heard his dad yelp in surprise as Derek helped himself to all the bacon. 

Werewolves didn’t worry about cholesterol and someone had to be punished for the collar. 

oOo

John’s plan for the day had been to go out to the preserve for some long overdue father/son/pet bonding but like everything else that been going on in Beacon Hill of late, things went pretty much off the rails as soon as the Stilinskis and wolf stepped out their own front door. 

“Oh crap.”, John muttered to his shoes before looking up with a fake smile of tolerating politeness. Ignoring the rules of polite social conduct completely, Stiles groaned inwardly and outwardly as the Stilinski’s elderly neighbor, Mrs. McCormick, approached them. As per usual, she had her tiny yappy dog, Mr. Boobers, trailing behind her and peeing on anything he could get his tiny back hind leg up and over on. The Maltese dressed in ugly checkered doggie sweater was the bane of the Sheriff’s existence and unlikely nemesis. Proving that evil came in all shapes and forms, Mr. Boobers had the knack for deciding to play overzealous guard dog whenever the Sheriff worked the night shifts and needed to sleep during the day. Every leaf that had the audacity to settle itself on Mrs. McCormick’s lawn or within a three square mile of it was thoroughly and very noisily interrogated by Mr. Boobers just when John was about to go to sleep. It was the Sheriff’s running theory that Mr. McCormick had either died from sleep deprivation or in desperate self defense to get a nap. 

“Be nice.”, John heard Stiles mutter at him out of the corner of him mouth. “She’s a dying little old lady not meant for this world that much longer.”. 

If he had human vocal cords, Derek would beg to differ. From her scent alone, Mrs. McCormick was almost disturbingly healthy despite her advanced years. It wouldn’t surprise Derek in the least if she easily held on for another twenty years. As it was, the werewolf plopped his ass down and tried to appear non-threatening, cause frightened little old ladies were usually annoying, surprisingly noisy, and hard on his sensitive hearing. That and Derek had a bad feeling that this was going to take a while so he might as well be comfortable. 

“She’s been dying for the better part of a decade.”, John pointed out, wishing like hell that he wasn’t the Sheriff sometimes. Especially one that had to deal with Mrs. McCormick who assumed because they were neighbors and had been so since before Stiles’s birth that she had the right to tell the Sheriff in person of every misdoing that went on in their neighborhood. John felt he could have lived the entire rest of his life without knowing that most mornings Mr. Hendrix, who lived two houses over, liked to dress in lingerie and apparently did a little dance while he drank his coffee or that Mrs. White, who lived across from them, liked to paint her toenails in the nude while she did her business on the toilet. John tried not to think about all the time he wasted explaining to Mrs. McCormick that most of the things she complained about, while distasteful or mentally scarring, were not really illegal. 

“So she doesn’t have much time left.”, Stiles shrugged while strategically placing himself behind his father and making a great show of adjusting and readjusting Derek’s collar, which made the werewolf grumble and nip at Stiles‘s fingers. Fully aware that he had just been made a living shield, John had to give credit where credit was due. Stiles had some sort of self preservation. 

The teenager ignored the werewolf’s glare while he dodged the playful bites but did answer Derek’s following look of confusion when the wolf began scenting stress and annoyance coming off both Stilinskis. “Just wait for it.”, Stiles sighed in the wolf‘s ear.

“She could be less of a pain in my ass about it……”, John grumbled down at his offspring before plastering a wide fake smile on his face. “Hello Mrs. McCormick. Lovely weather we’re having today.”.

“It’s too bright in my opinion. We’ll all get cancer from it, mark my words, Sheriff. Hello Toby.”, was Mrs. McCormick’s way of greeting.

“Stiles, ma’am.”, John corrected, something that Stiles didn’t even bother with anymore. Despite popular opinion, he recognized a lost cause when he saw one. Though she knew him practically from birth. Mrs. McCormick had never bothered to properly learn Stiles’s name. Toby was newest title though so Stiles added it to the ever growing list of ‘names that were not his‘. It was close to triple digits by now, and Stiles figured by the time he went to college that it would be well over in hundreds. He was counting on it, considering that the Sitlinskis had an ongoing bet about it. Mrs. McCormick had the strange inclination for never reusing the same name and Stiles was positive that he could get her up to a solid 150 before he left for college. His dad was sure that she was going to mess up one day and reuse a name or finally refer to his son by the correct one. There was a week’s worth of junk food freedom on the line here and as painful as it was, it almost made any interaction with Mrs. McCormick worth the effort.

“Eh? What’s a Stiles?”, Mrs. McCormick’s face clouded over with confusion. “Is that gang speak? I saw something about that on my shows.”.

“Never mind. Nice talking to you as always but we were just about to….”, John started to say in a daring verbal attempt of escape. For a dying little old lady, Mrs. McCormick and her minuscule dog somehow managed to take up the entirety of the doorstop landing and the sidewalk that lay beyond it. For their survival, John reasoned that they were just going to have to cut around her and risk being known by the entire town that they were the rudest human beings who ever existed. Besides being a snoop and a bit of a tattletale, Mrs. McCormick also held the title of ‘biggest gossip ever in the history of bored busybodies with fugly little dogs’. John was willing to risk the negative social stigma and he was sure Stiles would survive it as well. 

“Sheriff, I have a concern.”, Mrs. McCormick said in a shrill voice of doomed extended social interaction. 

“Of course you do.”, John sighed, feeling another tiny piece of his soul curl up and die. Sensing Stiles start to shift away and ease back into the safety of the house, the sheriff managed to grab the back of his son’s shirt just in time. Misery loved company and John wasn’t about to suffer through this alone. 

“What was that?”, Mrs. McCormick’s beady little eyes narrowed, alighting on Stiles who was trying to fight his father’s hand of fate and failing miserably at it. The teenager had all the subtlety and stealth of a dying goose. He also had an audience of a very amused werewolf he was muttered colorful threats at. Stiles had forgotten though that just like the Tyrannosaurus Mrs. McCormick hunted her prey by movement, her squinty focus zooming in on him. “Why are you fidgeting like that? Are you on the drugs? You should have him tested. They‘re all on the drugs theses days, making it in the bathroom.”.

“Yes. Yes, I am. On the drugs, but prescribed ones, not weird toilet water meth. Is that a thing? Yes? No? Anyway, it’s called Adderall and I really should go take some. Like right now cause I’m all with the fidget. Watch me do just that. Fidget. I‘m a danger to myself and others.”. At this point, Stiles was willing to use any excuse to leave. He was considering blinking Morse code at Derek to go get help or shift or do something besides sit there and look stoic. Stiles was willing to bet a wolf turning into a naked man would make even Mrs. McCormick shut up long enough for him to run away but Derek looked like he was trying to fall asleep while sitting up, the big useless faker. 

“He’s fine. What’s on your mind?”, John prompted, wanting to get this over as soon as possible. The gods of time conservation were not on his side though today. Mrs. McCormick squinted at the giant animal beside them, like she had somehow missed the pony sized canine and was just now noticing the wolf’s presence. 

“Is that a dog?”, Mrs. McCormick pursed her wrinkled lips in open distaste. Derek opened his eyes to stare blandly back at her, equally unimpressed. 

“Is that your concern?”, John kinda really hoped it was so that they could move this along.

“It should be on a leash like Mr. Boobers.”, Mrs. McCormick sniffed, unnecessarily showing the Stilinskis and Derek the ugly bejeweled leash she had in hand, like anyone with functioning eyeballs wouldn’t be able to miss its gaudy bedazzled length of hot pinkness and rhinestones. 

One didn’t need to be a werewolf to perceive the disapproval coming off her in waves as she glared at Derek and his lack of a leash. For having such an owner, Derek might have felt bad for the dressed up little dog if it didn’t keep sniffing around him and huffing little growls at him, the Maltese obviously having the brains bred out of him for daring such a thing in the first place. If he wanted to or got bored enough to do so, Derek could literally crush Mr. Boobers with one paw and brush his flattened corpse off of to the side with his tail. Deeming Mr. Boobers not worth the effort of intimidating, Derek ignored the tiny canine, turning his attention back to the humans.

“Dark is very well trained. I’m not worried about it.”, John said with a patience that was quickly dwindling. She had a valid point but he would rather chew glass at this point than admit it.

“It’s the law. You should know better than that, Sheriff.”, Mrs. McCormick lectured, waggling a crooked finger in John’s face who was busy reminding himself about all the paperwork that came with police brutality and manslaughter, no matter how justified as it was. 

“Well thank you for bringing that to my attention.”, John said through gritted teeth that could pass for a smile if the other person involved was as inattentive as a box of rocks or say, Mrs. McCormick. “Now, if you’ll excuse us….”

“About my concern.”, Mrs. McCormick reminded shrilly, making both Stilinskis and even Derek wince, confirming Stiles’s suspicion that she could hit a pitch that only dogs could hear. As fate and fortune would have it though, Mrs. McCormick never got to make her complaint of the day known because Mr. Boober decided at that very moment it was an opportune time for him to lift his leg and pee on Derek. 

There was moment of quiet shock of ‘that damn dog did not just do that’ from the Stilinskis on varying levels of disbelief, filled in with the background noises of tsking from Mrs. McCormick about how Mr. Boobers was being a naughty dog and naughty dogs didn‘t get to wear their favorite sweaters. There was also a strained stillness coming from the now slightly soggy werewolf due to the swirling maelstrom going on in Derek’s head as various instincts of both human and wolf tried to decide how to react to this sort of situation. 

“DER…DARK! NO! NO! NO! STAY!”, Stiles yelled as Derek lunged forward, fangs bared and jaw wide to swallow the Maltese whole, sweater and all. For apparently not having any notable survival instincts left, Mr. Boobers won out in the speed and agility categories for his breed as the tiny dog skittered behind his owner, somehow managing to escape being mauled by a slightly moist and extremely pissed off werewolf. 

Throwing caution to the wind and not wanting to witness a small animal basically being thrown into a blender of teeth, Stiles leapt on Derek‘s back. It didn’t slow the wolf down or burden it in the least. It did, however, manage to knock all the air out of his lungs though, but Stiles was proud of the small victory that he somehow hadn’t gotten thrown off as he clung to Derek’s fur like an oversized tick. 

Instead of running for his life, Mr. Boobers succeeded in further epic fail by wrapping his leash around Mrs. McCormick’s brittle looking ankles before sitting down next to her because if he was going to be eaten, Mr. Boobers seemed determined to take his owner with him. 

“Please don’t eat Mr. Boobers! He’ll get stuck in your teeth and give you indigestion! His sweater will give you the runs!”, Stiles tried to reason with the werewolf he was bodily hanging off of, his arms wrapped tightly around Derek’s neck as he wrapped his legs around the wolf‘s middle. He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon thanks to lacrosse and all the suicide runs their insane coach had made them do.

In a case of ‘like dog, like owner’, Mrs. McCormick didn’t even flinch, the little old lady glaring at the growling wolf that was practically eye level with her. “I told you he needed to be on a leash. I‘m going to report that beast.”, she snapped haughtily, unwrapping the leash around her bony ankles with a dignity that monarchs strove for yet rarely achieved before stalking away with her head held high and her petulant little dog trailing behind her.

“Good luck with that.”, John muttered, rolling his eyes, not knowing whether to laugh or sigh with relief. He looked on in bemusement as Stiles seemed to be carrying on a one sided conversation with Dark. Ignoring the teenager that still clung to his back, the wolf appeared to be pouting, making low grumbling noises of complaint as he sniffed the moist spot on his backside near the base of his tail. 

“I’m very disappointed in you.”, John told Derek who tilted his head up inquisitively in answer. Stiles barely refrained from face palming, the werewolf apparently forgetting that he was supposed to be unable to understand English. “You could have done us all a favor and eaten that tinker toy dog from hell.”.

“Dad, think about the paperwork alone on that. Innocent trees don’t have to die a senseless death. Don‘t you care at all about the environment?”, Stiles shook his head. Derek was glaring at him again in the ‘you are not amusing and I am so not amused’ kinda way but Stiles was used to it by now. 

“Oh well, this is a good chance to try out that new shampoo I got from Deaton. It smells like sweetpea.”, John grinned, ruffling up Derek’s fur. Stiles dry swallowed gravel and glass, refusing to look over at Derek whose eyes were probably red by now.

As nice as a bath sounded considering that he smelled like dog piss, Derek still made plans to eliminate the good doctor for making his smell like little girl‘s perfume. His ideas for vengeance were interrupted though by the Sheriff. “You’re lucky you got us. You would die out in the wild.”, John told the werewolf who tried not to stare too incredulously back at him and had to think lupine thoughts to keep in the proper mind set and form. 

The Sheriff couldn’t understand why his son started to laugh hard enough he fell off of the wolf or why Dark stalked off stiff legged like he had been insulted. His life was a strange thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Reviews, comments, concerns for my mental health, and kudos are always appreciated.


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